


Mastermind’s new research

by armethaumaturgy



Category: Elsword (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, PWP, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 20:21:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6872062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armethaumaturgy/pseuds/armethaumaturgy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What in the name of El lady is Mastermind researching this time, and why isn’t it contained?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mastermind’s new research

**Author's Note:**

> i would like to apologize to my mother

Lusa yawns, tears springing into his eyes as he rubs at them absently, trying to rub the sleep crust away. He trudges into the kitchen, his slippers shuffling along the floor quietly.

The whole building is quiet, and it’s slightly surprising to find no traces of Mastermind anywhere; no empty coffee mugs sitting in the sink, no traces of the smell that normally wafts around the room, no nothing. He frowns, turns on his heel and shuffles back down the hallway.

He knocks at the door to Mastermind’s lab, waiting for a reply while he suppresses another yawn. Maybe they could have an actual breakfast together for once, since he knows the other is already awake (of course he is, he is accurate as a watch with his routine).

He doesn’t get a reply, however. Lusa knocks again, louder this time.

Still no reply.

“Masi?” he calls out, but that doesn’t get him any reply either.

He opens the door, stepping inside to see if the scientist even is there. The lab is drenched in darkness, the few small patches of pale sunlight streaming in through the closed blinds not even close to being enough to illuminate anything.

The computer set-up seems to still be turned on, but it’s gone into sleep mode, reassuring Lusa that Mastermind is, most definitely, not inside the lab. Where could he have gone? Maybe he is sleeping?

Lusa chuckles at the thought; Mastermind, sleeping at a normal time like a normal person? Unheard of, the inventor is always up way before Lusa’s eyes even open for the first time in the morning.

Lusa cautiously steps into the room. In the near-pitch darkness, he doesn’t want to trip over something. Waking up Apocalypse and asking it where its master had gone to seems like a good idea to him. He doesn’t even take two steps, though, before he’s managed to trip over something and falls forward with a loud, startled yelp.

He hits the polished floor with a heavy thud and rubs at his head where he had hit it. He groans low in his throat, shifting his foot to see what he had tripped over. There shouldn’t have been anything just sitting on the floor, Mastermind wouldn’t allow things like that in his laboratory.

His bare foot (where’d his slipper end up? he has no idea) touches something slimy and he recoils with another startled cry, shuffling away and trying to see what it actually is. He can’t make it out in the darkness, but it appears to be a writhing mass of… something.

It looks too frightening against the light pouring in from the doorway, and Lusa thinks he can make out a blue color somewhere.

“What the hell—?!” he cries, standing up. What in the name of El lady is Mastermind researching this time, and why isn’t it contained? He is just back on his feet and looking around to find his slipper and forget about Mastermind altogether (the side of his head is throbbing and he had lost all appetite to eat breakfast, especially with his counterpart) when the thing moves.

It springs forward and coils around his left leg, tugging it from underneath him and sending the brawler sprawling down on the floor again. This time, Lusa just whines, trying to yank his leg out from the thing’s slimy grasp. It doesn’t budge, on the contrary, it pulls him forward, tugging him towards itself.

“Let go!” Lusa yelps at it, but there are no signs of the thing having heard him, much less about to follow his order. The human is positioned right on the whole thing, but the tentacle — for a lack of better term — doesn’t let go of his calf.

The thing feels slimy, yet solid enough for him not to get submerged in, and he isn’t sure which is worse, because the slime that seems to cover it quickly seeps into the fabric of his pajamas, leaving them cold and sticking to his skin.

“Disgusting!”

He leans down to pry the tentacle away from his leg, but instead he feels a pair of them to coil around his wrists and pulling them away from his leg.

“Ngh—!” He tisks in clear annoyance as he struggles against their hold, but they’re too strong for him to yank out of. “What the fuck, Mas—!”

He cuts himself off when he feel more tentacles emerging from the mess and slithering up his body, some even slipping under his nightwear. He shudders unconsciously at the cold and slimy feeling against his skin, twisting away fruitlessly.

“No!” he yells, his voice pitching too high and breaking. “Disgusting!”

All his yells seem to do is spur the thing on, so Lusa grits his teeth as he feels a tentacle tugging his shift up, exposing his stomach and chest. It seems too coordinated for anything Lusa had ever seen; it maneuvers his arms above his head and manages to pull the shirt off cleanly, chucking it away, forgotten.

Lusa’s body shivers, goosebumps rising on his skin. The tentacles pull his arms back and hold them down behind him, making him lean on them. It’s a weird feeling, because the slime underneath his palms gives way and his hands sink into it, getting submerged in the slime and effectively rendered useless. Lusa whines in the back of his throat, fidgetting and trying to pull them out.

It doesn’t work, they’re held in place by the tentacles, and he can only whine again.

His attention is drawn from his arms to another pair of tentacles that emerge from somewhere, hooking in the waistband of his cotton pants and tugging them down.

“Don’t!” he yells at the thing, bringing his knees up to his chest to hide himself. His tactic doesn’t work for long, as the thing wraps the tentacles around his calves and forces his legs back down. It seems to know exactly how it wants Lusa to be positioned, because it bends his knees and forces them into the central mass.

Lusa wriggles more, now completely unable to move his limbs. The slime drips down to the floor and makes loud noises, but not loud enough to not be overpowered by Lusa’s panicked panting.

“Let me g—” He isn’t even allowed to finish his plea as a tentacle, thicker than the ones wrapped up around his arms, presses against his lips and slips into his mouth, making him splutter and almost gag. And then it actually makes him gag, when it presses in further and he isn’t ready.

It pulls out again, and he takes the moment to gulp down air, but it presses in again, this time a little more gently. Lusa’s tongue is squished against the tentacle’s underside and his jaw feels stretched as much as it can.

The tentacle stays where it is, sitting in his mouth and dripping its slime straight onto Lusa’s tongue. The brawler is a little pleasantly surprised that the slime tastes relatively sweet and he just hope it isn’t poisonous. He closes his eyes and counts in his head, and when he reaches ninety and his body doesn’t feel weird (aside from the weird feeling of being half-submerged in a slimy creature), he relaxes, sure he isn’t going to die of poisoning now.

That doesn’t ease his concerns much otherwise. He can feel a tentacle creeping up his thigh and stiffens, teeth sinking into the tentacle in his mouth a little. It doesn’t seem to bother the thing, since the only thing it does is leak more of the slime. It dribbles from the corners of Lusa’s mouth and rolls down his chin, creating a bigger mess when it ends up on his heaving chest.

The tentacle moves from his thigh to his flaccid length and strokes along it, smearing around its slime. Lusa trembles in the creature’s hold, cursing himself when he feels his body react. The cold tentacle rubbing against him makes heat pool in his lower belly, and with a sobbed-out whine, Lusa closes his eyes. He can feel himself slowly getting hard.

The creature seems happy about it, and keeps rubbing against him, almost like it’s nuzzling his length. A smaller tentacle curls around the cock and strokes it and Lusa chokes out a moan from around the tentacle in his mouth. That one still hasn’t moved, thankfully, just keeps pouring concerning amounts of slime into his mouth, most of which Lusa unwillingly swallows down, with the rest drizzling out from his lips and making shining trails down his pale skin.

His body feels way too hot, and he’s sure he’s blushing down to his chest. His hair sticks to his forehead with the mixture of sweat and slime and it feels like the slime now covers each square centimetre of his body.

The small tentacle uncoils itself from around his cock and Lusa whines at the loss of contact. Whether it’s just reflexive, he isn’t one hundred percent sure, but he can’t deny that the touch on his heated member had felt good.

The tentacle makes its way further between his legs and Lusa squeezes his eyes closed tightly as he feels it rubbing over his puckered hole. It presses against him and, with the help of its gratituous slime, pushes inside with little resistance.

A high-pitched moan tumbles from Lusa’s lips and he arches his back as much as the hold on his arms and legs allows, spluttering around the tentacle in his mouth. His cock jumps and a fresh wave of humiliation washes over him, making him squeeze his eyes closed even more, until colors pop behind his eyelids.

The tentacle inside of him wiggles around, rubbing against his sensitive walls and it makes him moan, over and over. The tentacle between his lips decides it’s prime time to start moving, and it slips out of his mouth, dragging across his tongue and then pushing back in again, leaving a line of honey-like slime as it comes and goes.

They fall into a synced rhythm, fucking in and out of Lusa in time and the berserker is left to just shiver and moan under the stimulations.

Faintly, he can feel the tentacle that had been rubbing against his cock all this time pull away and he looks down in confusion, blinking his blurry sight away so he can watch the tentacle hovering between his legs.

A smaller, much thinner tentacle sprouts from its top and Lusa frowns at its flistening surface. It writhes wildly for a moment, keeping Lusa’s attention, before it nears his erection. The tiny tentacle rubs across the tip of Lusa’s cock, dipping in the small pool of translucent precum gathered there and smearing it around the swolled flesh before it presses into his slit, slipping in.

Lusa keens, a loud sound muffled by the tentacle fucking his mouth unrelentlessly. His legs twitch minutely as the tiny tentacle drags itself in and out of his cock, sending shocks of liquid pleasure running up his spine. He melts into the ministrations of the tentacles, half-lidded eyes staring off.

They move without a pause and he can’t do much else than pant loudly and try not to choke on the copious amounts of slime filling his mouth. He feels so hot and filled — he swears the tentacle fucking his ass had swollen up somewhere along the way.

He nears his orgasm, trashing around as much as he can, trying to get away from the tentacles because they’re too much, way too much— He can’t take the combined movements; the tentacle dragging its smooth surface against his prostate with every other thrust and making him tighten up and feel its width even more; the tentacle inside his cock, rubbing against him in a way he had never felt before; the tentacle filling his mouth and fucking it at its leisure.

It’s all too much, his mind is going muddled.

His body goes rigid and he arches his back, head thrown back. The tentacle slips from his lips and his moan of completition echoes in the silence of Mastermind’s lab, loud and drawn-out and breathy and sounding absolutely unlike him. His cum spurts out in heavy ribbons and is caught by the tentacle still hovering in front of him. The tiny tentacle slips out of his softening length and retracts into the bigger one, which seems to be absorbing the splotches of while Lusa has painted it with.

The creature slowly disentangles itself from Lusa, leaving him laying in a heap on the previously pristine floor in a puddle of slime. It happily huddles under one of the tables and looks to go to sleep.

Lusa whines, curling up.

Oh, Mastermind is getting a serious talking to when he decides to show his fucking face. And the slimy creature is getting put into a fucking jar where Lusa will make sure it can’t escape from. At least unless he allows it to.


End file.
